‘There you are, Ma’am!’
It was Mary, their maid. A qualified nurse, she looked after them when the primary staff were on duty elsewhere. Tonight, they’d be needed in the West Wing – a place where only the core staff were allowed. Mary didn’t have that privilege, but she was trustworthy enough and looked after the pair of them better than they liked to let on.
‘I’m sorry, Sir,’ she said, sounding put-upon. ‘If I’d known you were coming, I’d have known where to find her.’
‘I told you he was coming,’ said my mother, disapprovingly.
‘Yes,’ said Mary, giving me an upside-down smile. ‘But you say that every day.’
‘Well…’ I looked at my watch. ‘No harm done. Where is the old duffer?’
‘Naughty!’ My mother giggled. ‘He’s in bed, of course.’
‘He rarely gets up now,’ said Mary, lowering her voice. ‘He’s gone downhill a bit.’
Twenty Nine
Him
I went through the drawing room, a high-ceilinged, elegant room, with the table now laid for dinner, into the tower room. It was even more beautiful, turreted to one side, with a bank of curved windows overlooking the garden. In a hospital bed, facing them, lay my father, Quinlan Fforbes, ex-MP, hotel magnate, and all-round bastard. He looked much the same as always, apart from the cannula attached to his nose.
As I entered, he looked over at me and his face took on its usual foul-tempered look.
‘Oh,’ he said. ‘It’s you, is it?’
‘Hello, Father.’ I went over to the window. The grounds were all lovely but I liked this part best. It was more like a cottage garden, and it afforded me some of my happiest memories of this place, when I’d sneaked off as a child round here, to play with the children of the servants.
‘How are you?’ I said, still looking out the window.
‘Never mind me,’ he said, punctuating his words with a long hacking cough. ‘How’s business? How’s…’ He broke off to cough again. ‘…The club?’
‘Still going,’ I said. It was all he still cared about. If I’d told him everything else he’d begun had gone bust, I don’t think he’d have given a toss. It was all about the club. ‘It’s good.’
‘And how’s…’ He motioned towards the main house. ‘Your racket? Still going, too?’
‘It’s not a racket, Father.’ I went over and sat in the armchair next to him. ‘I had a situation, a few days ago. A tape of Giles Flint’s daughter.’ I shuddered again, at the memory.
‘Giles’s daughter?’ He looked furious. ‘My God, boy. You really are a fuckwit. What the hell were you doing, getting involved with…’
He broke off, his cough getting the better of him.
‘I was going,’ I said, calmly. ‘To say it’s sorted. I sorted it.’
His coughing subsided slightly and he leaned towards me. ‘Don’t embarrass me,’ he said, through his coughs. ‘Stay away from Giles – you hear me?’
‘I’ll associate with whomsoever I choose,’ I said, standing up to leave. ‘Goodbye, Father.’
As I turned to go, he called me back.
‘Nathaniel!’
It was such a rare thing, to hear him speak my name, that I turned back in spite of myself. ‘Father?’
‘You always were a loser. I’ll see that empire of mine crumble into dust in your hands, I know it.’
‘You’re entitled to your opinion,’ I said, with a brief nod. ‘And over my dead body.’
I turned and left, the sound of his hacking cough fading away behind me.
Ronnie was waiting for me in the entrance hall when I arrived.
‘My love.’ She came up to me her arms open, and I let her kiss me briefly.
Her lips were painted a brilliant scarlet, and I wiped at my cheek, leaving a smear on the cuff of my shirt. I looked down at it ruefully. She was ever the Domme, these days. She had no reason to dress the part tonight, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. For some reason, it still stung.
‘They told me you’d arrived.’ She stood back, inspecting me carefully. ‘I hear we’ve a new one tonight?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Is Mrs…whatever-her-name-is still due?’
‘I received the confirmation yesterday, from Mr whatever-his-name-is,’ she said, walking through towards the West Wing. ‘Really, Nat. If you can’t even remember their names, do you still need to be doing this?’
‘Mrs Wilkington-Smythe,’ I said, as we made our way through the corridors. ‘I know her name. It’s just so ridiculously…’
‘Upper-class?’
‘Pretentious.’
The West Wing was as dark as the East wing was light. I peered into one of the playrooms before heading into my office. ‘Put her in there,’ I said. ‘It’s convenient.’
‘She’s not the only one.’ She took out a notebook and ruffled through the pages. ‘There are quite a few, actually.’
I shrugged. ‘It’s a Friday night,’ I said. ‘There’d be quite a few out there, if not.’
‘There will be anyway.’ She put her hands to my face and, looking deep into my eyes with a smile, squeezed my cheeks. ‘People are allowed to make mistakes, you know.’
‘Not this one,’ I said, shortly.
She watched me, waiting for me to speak but, instead, I turned away and switched on the computer.
‘Is there something special about this one, then?’ she said, finally.
‘She’s just...’ I kept my eyes on the computer screen. ‘Someone I met.’
‘Someone you intercepted,’ she said, making the necessary translation. ‘It’s been a while since any of us have had one of those.’
The clock showed it was almost half seven. If Grace had been ready when Stephens picked her up, she’d be here any minute.
‘Which, I’m sure you’ll agree,’ I said, standing up. ‘Can only be a good thing.’
I gave her a tight smile, and headed back to the entrance hall.
Thirty
Her
I’d had a shower and was in my dressing gown, making a cup of tea, when Liv came in from work. She more or less fell through the front door, practically crackling with excitement.
‘It was him, Grace,’ she said, flomping down at the kitchen table. ‘And I know who he is now.’
‘So do I,’ I said. I’d come down – slightly – from the excitement of the meeting with Jimmy, and I’d been dwelling on Nathaniel Forbes, and his erratic behaviour, ever since I got in. The man was a walking contradiction.
‘You don’t seem that interested,’ she said, sounding disappointed. ‘I was looking forward to telling you. I thought you’d be amazed.’
‘I’ve never heard of him,’ I said, absently getting out a cup for Liv.
I was running through our time in the café again. When I’d realised what he’d done about Phil and his friends, I was sure he was interested, but then all he’d asked me about was what I’d wanted the night before. Why did he send me such mixed signals? Why was he going all-out to protect me, if he didn’t like me? And he didn’t. He’d made that quite apparent in the car.
‘How can you never have heard of Nathaniel Fforbes?’ said Liv. ‘He’s heir to the Fforbes hotel chain, amongst other things.’
‘He’s not.’ I put the teabags in the cups, hardly noticing what I was doing. ‘His name has only one F. The Fforbes you’re talking about has two.’
‘Ah, but he is,’ she said. ‘And he’s practically celebrity royalty.’
‘I’m not interested in celebrities,’ I replied, over the noise of the kettle screaming. Trust Liv to have a whistling kettle. ‘I didn’t think you were, either.’